


Transcendence

by jellydonut16



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, I'm Sorry, M/M, So much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:51:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5326418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellydonut16/pseuds/jellydonut16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Lovino learns how to say goodbye. There was only so much he could say to Antonio in so little time, but he had to seize the moment or stand the chance of losing it forever. Non is sum, qui mortis periculo terrear: I am not the man to flinch when the bullets fly. Death has no terrors for me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**_tran_ • _scend_ • _ence_**

— **n. Existence or experience beyond the normal or physical level.**

 

* * *

 

Bleary hazel eyes, hands numb and mind unthinking.

Languid, clumsy footsteps upon the fresh, white snow of a new day.

_Bianco._ White.

So pure.

So… innocent.

One thing Lovino Vargas knew he would never be.

He laid an unusually pale hand upon the cool bark of a petrified tree, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

_Where am I?_

He glanced up and observed his surroundings. _How the hell did I even get here?_

Tall trees of aging pine surrounded him, _towering_ over him; there were trees _everywhere_ he turned. And when he'd glanced up at the sky, it was the type dreary grey he hated oh-so much.

There was an unsettling and ominous calm about the forest that surrounded him. He had no recollection of how he ended up in a fucking _forest_ of all places, but he suspected it had something to do with a _very_ uncontrollably wild night.

…Even then, he couldn't even _recall_ being at some dumb party, let alone the last memory he had since he passed out. All he knows is that he just woke up in the middle of the woods, got up, and started walking as if his life depended on it.

Which it probably did.

It'd really suck ass if he were stranded in the woods for the rest of his life.

Lovino patted down his pockets, alarmed to find that his phone was nowhere in his possession. Instead, he found a squished pack of Marlboro cigarettes and a Bic lighter in his back pocket. He huffed at the loss of his phone and fished the box and lighter out of his pocket.

No matter. He'd find his way out himself.

The brunette shrugged a cancer stick out of the box, holding it to his lips and lighting it. _Only fools smoke cigarettes!_ His grandfather would repetitiously scold, slamming the empty packs of smokes onto the Vargas family home's mahogany coffee table before his eldest grandson, chocolate brown eyes glaring daggers at him with fervent disapproval and disappointment.

Lovino chuckled bitterly at the memory, pulling the cigarette away from his lips so he could exhale the smoke into the biting morning air that nipped at his bare fingertips that soon dissipated into nothingness. Where are gloves when you need them, right? He couldn't feel a fucking _thing_ anymore. _Dammit._

He took another glance down at the Marlboro box and lighter in his other hand and felt a slight twinge of guilt. _Antonio wouldn't like this,_ he thought to himself, imagining the normally happy-go-lucky Spaniard tackling him to the ground and personally _wrenching_ the smokes out of his possession before throwing them away. As _far_ as possible.

_And burning it into ashes._

" _Don't you know that smoking kills?"_ He would scold him for the nth time, emerald green eyes suddenly stern and serious. _"I care about you too much to let you do this to yourself, Lovi."_ Then his eyes would soften, taking his sunkissed hands into his own tan, calloused ones. _"You should stop smoking now, okay?"_

But Lovino never stopped, anyway. Sure, he didn't smoke as much. But the moment he got the chance, he'd excuse himself out of whatever situation he was in and sneak a cigarette. Plus, what Antonio doesn't know won't hurt him, right?

Lovino closed his eyes and brought it to his lips again, inhaling the smoke until it'd filled his lungs to the brim, until it felt like they were on _fire_ , and letting it go with a shaky breath.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

He discarded the spent cigarette butt by dropping it at his feet and stomping on it with his black Converse sneakers, the heel of his shoe crunching against the crisp, pristine snow.

_What Antonio doesn't know won't hurt him._

He drew his foot back and unclenched the fist he hadn't realized he'd tightened up into a ball, knuckles white.

_Antonio was always too nice for his own good._ Too _nice._

The corner of Lovino's lips curled down into the standard scowl he perpetually wore on his face, brows knitting at the thought of the Spaniard. He had mixed feelings regarding Antonio. Confusing ones that often made his knees weak and his heart and stomach all fucking fluttery and shit, _Dio_ , those were the _worst_. And if there was _one_ thing he absolutely hated, it was uncertainty.

…W-Well, there _were_ several things he was fairly certain about, though.

One: that his younger _fratello_ , Feliciano, was an idiot and had an unhealthy obsession with 've~ pasta!'.

Lovino decided that he would Google mental institutions for pastaholics later when he got home. B-Better stop the addiction before it's too late, right? Even though Italian food was fucking _amazing_ and _orgasmic_ , it was one thing to love pasta and another to devote all of your time and dedication to cultivating the pasta-making arts.

Then again, Lovino was no better; he shared that same unhealthy obsession, only with _tomatoes_. _Y-You go, Feliciano, you pasta-_ breathing _dork._

Two: that potatoes fucking _suck_.

He hated potatoes. Oh, yes. With a huge, fiery _passion_. It reminded him of Feliciano's wurst-humping, German bastard of a friend ( _fiend_ ), _L-Ludwig_.

The Italian inwardly shuddered, snapping a small branch as his feet led him through the forest.

Those shifty little brown pieces of _shit_ didn't even taste good, dammit! If they were good for _anything_ , they were good projectiles for throwing at a certain fucking _macho potato_ 's head, _point-fucking-blank_.

Three: that Antonio was an idiot. True story. Lovino wasn't sure what made the Spaniard so _oblivious_ to everything around him, or if it was just that the tomato bastard was fucking _hurled_ at the wall as a baby. The _bastardo_ couldn't read atmospheres for _shit_.

A-And four: t-that he harbored f- _feelings_ for a-a certain… a certain Spa— _I'm not telling you shit, dammit!_

The Italian was lost in his thoughts, pausing momentarily when he came to a lake. Most of it was frozen, save for a part of it where the ice had cracked and gave through. Seeing the icy water and thinking of the prospect of the poor, unfortunate fuck that had probably fallen into it made him grimace. He shuffled up to the edge of the lake, the cold wintry air whipping his brown locks in all directions.

Lovino brought a hand up to run it through his hair, taking in the serene view before him. Like _hell_ if he knew how he could stomach spending a night sleeping in the woods in weather as _freezing as this_ , but it didn't faze him as much as it was supposed to.

I-In fact… it gave him a certain feeling of calm. Which was rare for him, admittedly.

Feeling _calm_ , that is…

He closed his eyes and took in the fresh air...

...until a sudden pang of panic hit his gut.

_Something's off._

He pressed his lips together in a grim line, forcing himself to open his eyes.

He didn't even know _why_ he was feeling this way. He knew he should be more concerned with his predicament, but he just— he just _wasn't_.

And before he could even register it, his feet spun around and began to walk along the edge of the lake until he'd reached the other side. Then, he started to pace through the woods, as if his feet were moving on its own accord.

His mind was hazy. He couldn't really gather or process his thoughts, but he knew that this had importance to him.

He _needed_ to be somewhere, and as if out of muscle memory, his feet was now leading him to that somewhere.

Maybe he would find a payphone or something, or a house. Cabin. Camp site.

_Something._

_Something_ to give him answers or clues regarding his whereabouts.

As he began to walk on, he could feel his footsteps growing faster and faster; lighter and lighter— as if he were walking on _air itself_.

He was going on a straight path, he soon realized, as if the trees were partitioning for him and only him.

Running.

He was running now.

He was running so, so very quickly.

His lungs ached for oxygen, but his feet wouldn't stop until he saw the edge of the forest soon approaching.

Seeing the end of the woods replenished his strength, a new determination to get back into civilization's graces once and for all fueling him.

Just as he whizzed past the last leafless tree, he suddenly came to an abrupt halt.

His heart skipped a beat as heat began to spread out the back of his neck and his flushed cheeks.

Why?

Because just a few meters away from him, there he saw _him_.

Antonio.

 


	2. II

A-Antonio.

Lovino stiffened once his mind finally registered what was going on.

The Spaniard was _crying_ — grieving, even.

He warily took a step forward, but it seemed like Antonio hadn't heard him. In fact, the latter paid no attention to the world around him (what's new?) as he knelt on the snowy ground, probably getting his jeans wet.

"Oi, _bastardo_ ," Lovino called out, frowning at seeing Toni like _this_. Seeing the Spaniard so _vulnerable_ had awoken the feeling of fear and worry inside him. Antonio was never like this, no.

The Italian took several wide strides forward— nearly losing his balance at first—to span the distance between them and stopped right before the man currently hunched over on the ground. "Antonio!" He growled out, a little more insistently this time. "Th-this isn't fucking funny, Antonio! It never _was_! D-Dammit, look at me! Why the hell are you crying?!"

He reached out and grabbed the Spaniard's shoulder so he could turn Toni to face him… only he _couldn't_.

His hand went straight through.

 

* * *

 

Lovino was momentarily stunned and stepped back, tripping over his own feet and falling to the ground.

_What the actual fuck?_

"Toni, fucking look at me, dammit!" Lovino yelled out, his fear intensifying upon seeing the lack of reaction from the other.

_D-Dio mio…_

He reached up and reached for Antonio's shoulder again. His fingers slipped through the latter's body.

Was he _hallucinating_?

Lovino got onto his knees, right behind the Spaniard. He could _practically_ feel the warmth radiating from him; smell the faint scent of tomatoes that always lingered on Antonio's clothes; feel his chocolate brown hair tickling the tip of his nose.

Toni was there.

Why wasn't Lovino?

"Look at me when I'm trying to talk to you, dammit!" Lovino yelled, right into the brunette's ear.

Nothing.

He threw a punch at him.

Nothing.

He stood up and tried to kick him.

Nothing.

Angry, frustrated and fearful tears brimmed the Italian's eyes as he heaved in and out. Finally, he seemed to take notice of his surroundings.

There were graves everywhere.

He was at a cemetery.

Lovino felt chills crawl up his spine, sending the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end as he hesitantly looked past the Spaniard and at the grave the latter was weeping in front of.

His heart sunk to the very bottom of his stomach.

**" Here lies Lovino Romano Vargas,**  
**A caring brother and a friend to many.**  
**He will always be in our hearts.**  
**I love you, fratello."**

 

* * *

 

_Oh God._

_Ohgodohgodohgodohgod._

Lovino reread the words engraved on the grave over and over and over again, hazel eyes growing frantic and manic.

T-This… was just a terrible _nightmare_ , dammit!

Why wasn't he waking up yet?!

Yet Lovino couldn't stop the tears from streaming down his face as he thrashed around and tried to get the Spaniard to _look_ at him.

"I'm not dead, you idiot! I'm not dead! Look at me, you fucking bastard, I'm right _here_! I'm not _dead_!"

And just like that, all of the once-forgotten memories hit him like a fucking train.

 

* * *

 

Lovino sank to the ground, clutching his head between his hands as he winced at the onslaught of memories seizing his head at rapid-fire.

_Too much, oh Dio, it's too much, Ican'tthinkstraightanymore._

He writhed in pain, feeling like he was drowning.

He c-couldn't _breathe_.

He began to hack up water, yet it had no effect on the freshly fallen snow.

Worst of all, _he remembered_.

 

* * *

 

_Lovino knocked back the bottle of wine in his hand with a loud, resounding_ clack _. His hazel eyes drifted over the general direction of the door, the liquid confidence in his veins contorting the door to have several blurry versions of it._

_He sat up from the barstool, his head spinning, as he leant against the aged mahogany counter, waiting for his vision to steady a bit more before he stumbled out of the bar._

_He wanted to forget. He wanted to stop thinking._

_For a while._

_For only a little bit._

_For only tonight._

_Forever._

_He was just so,_ so _very angry._

_At Antonio._

_At Feliciano._

_And at himself—_ especially _at himself._

_Lovino stormed out of the bar, stumbling quite a number of times, before finally locating his red Fiat_ (stupid fucking car won't stay put, dammit) _and leaning against it, his mind spinning in dizziness. He sunk down to the damp concrete, pulling out the new box of cigarettes he'd bought prior going into the bar, along with his lighter out of his back pocket._

_Carefully, Lovino shook a cigarette out of the box and lit it up between his right index finger and middle finger, hands shaking. He then guided it to his soft lips and took a long drag, his face flushing a vibrant crimson from the aftereffects of drinking one too many glasses (bottles) of red wine._

_He propped himself up on one knee so he could shove the box and the lighter back in. He'd stash it away later when he got back home._

_Half-lidded hazel eyes fluttered close as he tilted his head upwards to the starry night sky with the cold winter wind numbing his bare fingers as well as it did his senses._

**_He wanted to forget…_ **

_The Italian shifted himself into a better sitting position, staying there until the cigarette had been completely consumed. He then stood up and momentarily lost his balance for several seconds before regaining his footing and fishing the car keys out of the pocket, blindly jamming the key into the door and clumsily feeling the car's cold, dusty surface until he'd located the keyhole._

_Lovino clambered in the driver's seat, huffing innumerable expletives under his breath as he tried to find the stupid fucking ignition in the dark._

_Moments of boiling rage and frustration bubbled beneath his veins as he fumbled around for the ignition._

_Ah, there._

_He finally fucking found it._

_Lovino revved the engine, willing all of his worries and woes to fuck off as the alcohol coursed through his body. He_ would _do this._

_Heck, he'd even done it before, albeit tipsy; not_ inebriated _._

_He briefly considered the repercussions of driving drunk._

_Then he remembered that he didn't give a shit._

… ** _so he did._**

 

* * *

 

_Sixty… seventy-five… eighty… one hundred-ten… one hundred-twenty…_

_Pedal to the fucking metal, Lovino sped down the mostly empty highway like never before._

_All he could hear was the continual crescendo and decrescendo of the engine revving. All he could feel was the blood running through his veins— his thrumming heart beating against his chest._

One hundred-sixty kilometers per fucking hour.

_He was going fast, so, so fast, he was pushed against the driver's seat, the seatbelt beside him left forgotten since he had gotten in the car._

_He felt elated; like he was flying._

_Oh, yes… He was so close,_ this _close to forgetting it all. But for how long?_

_For a while?_

_For only a little bit?_

_For only tonight?_

**_Forever?_ **

_Before his drunken mind could even_ register _it, his car began to hydroplane over a part of the road where the snow began to melt before solidifying into ice._

_Out of instinct, the first thing he did was to jerk the steering wheel away._

_Away where? He didn't know. All he knew was that he should avoid that section of the road_ at all costs _._

_He hit the fence bordering the edge of the road._

_H-He… he should've just stopped there, right?_

_But he didn't._

_He drove through the fence, venturing into the forest that sloped down-fucking-hill into God knows_ what _._

_Lovino was effectively sobering up due to the cruel reality of the situation. More than a few curses escaped his lips as he managed to maneuver past any trees that consumed his path, the rough terrain making the feat all the more astonishing._

_Just as he thought that he would finally crash into a tree to end it all, he drove past the last one._

_It only got so much worse._

 

* * *

 

_His car whizzed past the trees and onto the frozen lake._

_He successfully skidded to a halt, right in the middle of the ice._

_Before the Italian even got to heave a sigh of relief at avoiding the hand of death, there was an audible, resounding_ crack _that managed to reverberate through the confines of his car, echoing through his ears._

**_The ice was breaking._ **

_He stilled, rigid in horror as his jaw dropped in shock._

_M-_ Maybe _if he could get out of the car_ now _, he could escape and haul ass out of the lake!_

_Lovino put a hand on the doorhandle—_

**_The ice broke._ **

— _and the car suddenly fell into the water, the ice underneath it giving in._

_A broken yell escaped his lips, holding onto the edges of his seat._

Oh God.

_And before he knew it, the tires had lost their buoyancy. The car had begun sinking._

 

* * *

 

_Lovino was_ frantic _, looking past the foggy windows. He saw no ice. All he saw was dark, murky,_ icy cold _lake water._

Fuck.

_From then on, he just_ knew _; he knew he wouldn't be making it out of the lake alive._

Dio _, he didn't even know how to fucking_ swim _._

_He winced at the realization, fishing his phone out of his front pocket and staring at it for a second._

_911?_

_They wouldn't get to him in time, dammit. A-And it's not like he could exactly_ tell _them where he even was._

He _couldn't even tell himself where the hell_ he _was. Fuck._

_And as if moving on their own accord, his fingers swiped through various screens before he pressed onto a name and immediately began to place the outgoing call._

_He was calling_ **Tomato Bastard** _._

 

* * *

 

… _And of_ course _the asshole would let a call as fucking_ crucial _as this go straight to fucking_ voicemail _._

"Hi! This is Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo~! Please leave a message after the beeeeep~!"

Beep.

_Lovino stilled, contemplating what to say, before blurting out, "H-Hey, bastard— A-Antonio… I guess t-that this is goodbye."_

'Goodbye'? Already? After I just said 'hey'? Seriously?

_He cleared his throat and corrected himself, "T-This is Lovino b-by the way… b-but of_ course _you a-already know that, bastard…" Hazel eyes glanced down at his feet and watched in silent horror as water started to seep in and pool at his feet. His sneakers were getting wet._

_He was running out of time and fast._

" _O-Okay! So. When I first m-met you, I thought that you were the_ biggest ignorant jackass on the face of the earth _, and somehow, you kinda still are. Uh… Y-You were so fucking_ annoying _then. A-And even_ now _, you still manage to annoy the fuck out of me. So… yeah. When I first met you, you wouldn't leave me alone at_ all _, dammit!"_

_He took another glance down at his feet. The water already came up to his ankles, numbing his feet, and this car was sinking_ fastfastfast _and before long, he'd just be another body at the bottom of a lake. Lovino drew and released a shaky, shuddering breath, "O-Oh, God…"_

_The lump forming in the back of his throat grew bigger exponentially, his hazel eyes burning with a threatening onslaught of tears._

_He was going to_ die _, dammit! A-All because he was stupid enough to drive while intoxicated._

… _And the truth was?_

_He meant to do it._

_Drive while intoxicated, that is. H-He just wanted to do something_ reckless _to stew in the boiling anger and hatred he had for himself and_ only _for himself. A-And now he was paying for it with his life._

_He knew the consequences and he accepted the terms and agreements himself. It was like he practically_ volunteered _to die._

I better h-hurry the fuck up before I run out of time… _Lovino grimly admitted._

_And so, he began to speak._

" _I thought that… that after a while, y-you'd finally g-give up on me like so many others did, just like the rest of them… but you didn't. A-And that meant a lot to me. A_ lot _. Wh-Where people would shun me away because I was a rude and bitter little shit, you a-accepted me."_

_He breathed in sharply, the water slowly rising up and consuming his legs inch by inch._ Dio mio. _The car was starting to tilt downwards, the hood sinking first. Lovino angled himself and got into position to prepare to clamber over to the backseat if need be._

" _Shit," he cursed under his breath, his gut wrenching in unvoiced panic. "A-Anyways, you didn't mind how I always called you a bastard or how I would always push you away… B-Because you knew I never meant it, right?"_

_A 45-degree shift in the car prompted Lovino to leap up from his seat and over to the one behind him. "Fuck! A-Antonio, you better get this fucking message, because i-if you don't I am going to be_ so pissed _at you, you got that?! So, so very_ pissed _, because if you don't, I-I'll kick your ass back all the way to fucking Barcelona! Or Madrid! Whatever!_ Dio mio _, at the hour of my death and you still have me rambling. You stupid tomato bastard!"_

_Tears began to run down his face, the reality of the situation finally sinking onto his frazzled nerves and comfortably settling in the conscious of his mind._ Na na na, _the voices seemed to chant, mocking him over and over again._

" _People would shun me out, but you were oh-so very nice to me, Antonio. A-And when we graduated from college together, it w-was then I realized that I had fucking_ feelings _for you! And it scared me to_ death _! You made me sure yet_ un _sure about everything I ever knew! You were_ there _for me, throughout all the bullshit I ever went through! N-Not once did you_ ever _leave me. E-Even when Fe-Feliciano came along… Y-You still never left me…"_

_He pulled away from the cellphone to wipe away all the tears that freely ran down his face, down his flushed cheeks with clumsy, trembling hands. His labored heaving restrained him from breathing properly, but still, he pushed through. He_ had _to keep going,_ once and for all _. If not, he may_ **(would)** _never find_ **(have)** _another chance to, ever again._

" _W-When Feliciano came along… He was like a fucking breath of fresh air, huh? Heh… A-As time passed, you and_ mio fratello _began to become closer… obviously. We're like polar fucking opposites,_ mio fratellino _and I. And I don't blame Feliciano f-for…_ fuck _. I don't know. For taking you away—_ dammit! _…I would say that Feliciano broke us apart, but you were never mine to begin with."_

_The water came up to his knees._

" _It's not— it's not you or_ fratello's _fault. It was solely my own. I-_ I'm _second best. I know; I always have been… A-And I'm sorry for piling all of this shit on you. Truly, I am. W-Whatever happens after a-all this bullshit, don't— don't blame yourself for this, o-okay, bastard?"_

_The water came up to his thighs._

_He was shivering now. Lovino propped his feet up on the edges of the passenger and driver's seats, standing up slightly. Still, he pressed onwards. "A-And I know you l-love Feliciano, so you better— you better fucking take good c-care of him, okay? Dammit…"_

_It hurt, truly._

_To finally admit that you could never have the one person you wanted._

_To finally confirm it to yourself and yourself only that you never stood a fucking_ chance _._

_To finally face the fact that the one you loved, loved another— and your own_ brother, _at that._

It f-fucking hurts, dammit…

_The car was sinking faster. More than half of it was already submerged in the unfathomable, icy deep._

" _I just wished that you could've felt the same way for_ me _. Y-You fucking tomato bastard. But I— I_ know _that won't happen, and it never will. I've tried over and over again to be_ just _like him. Just like Feliciano, but I just— I just couldn't. Okay? I thought that b-being more like Feli would make you— I don't even fucking know— return my feelings? B-But that just wasn't me anymore, and I c-couldn't live life trying to be someone else. I— This is who I am and no amount of denying it could ever change that._ …Ti amo, bastardo. Ti amo. Mi dispiace. Mi dispiace tanto. Perdonami, mio amore; Antonio. _"_

_The water now rose up to his chest, constricting the airway to his lungs from the outside. He was s-_ shivering _from the unbearable cold, his body going numb yet aching in_ agony _from how cold his muscles, his limbs were becoming._ Dio mi salvi.

" _O-Oh,_ Dio _." He pressed himself against the highest point of the car, his knees and thighs aching from being in a position neither sitting nor standing for so long in such unfavorable conditions. "Tell Feliciano t-that I love him too, dammit!"_

_Lovino's footing slipped due to the car tipping to an almost 90-degree angle and he promptly sank in the water, if only for a second. A taste of death. He thankfully regained his balance, an arm still raised up in the air— the one holding his cellphone— and shot up through the_ coldcoldcold _waters that threatened to consume him very,_ very _soon. The Italian coughed the water out of his lungs as quickly as possible so he could finally say his final farewell._

_The water started to come up to his throat, rising up faster and faster._

_The call was going to end shortly._

" _J-Just know that I… I love you. I think I always have. And don't try to find me._

_Because you won't._

… _Goodbye, Antonio."_

_And it was at that point where Lovino finally gave up. His feet gave way and he sunk down to the bottom of the lake in his red Fiat. Hazel eyes stared blankly at the now dead phone floating in front of him._

_Water filled his lungs and his vision began to fade into black. Darkness surrounded him, consumed him; it continually suffocated him for several more moments until his body stilled, drifting to the backseat of the fully submerged car as it hit the bottom of the lake._

_The water, rippled from the disturbance, had stilled after a minute or so. It had left a deafening silence in its wake as the arms of unconsciousness warmly embraced the Italian; the tides were as they were before, as if it never happened._

_The unfathomable, icy darkness that took him were very much like the ebb and flow of time._

_It went on._

_Lovino Romano Vargas was no longer among the living._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bastardo - bastard  
>  Dio mio - oh my God   
> mio fratello - my brother   
> mio fratellino - my little brother  
>  ti amo - I love you  
>  mi dispiace - I'm sorry   
> mi dispiace tanto - I'm so sorry  
>  perdonami - forgive me   
> mio amore - my love   
> Dio mi salvi - God save me


	3. III

" _Do you think he'll like it, Feli?" Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo asked the younger of the Vargas brothers, glancing at his reflection in the slim, full-length mirror adjacent to the door leading to the living room of the Italian brothers' home for the umpteenth time as he fixed his slim black necktie._

" _Ve~ I think so!" Feliciano chirped as he went about fixing the ornate plates on the dining table set for two. "I'm so excited for you and_ fratello _; especially after all the planning we put in this!"_

_A nervous chuckle escaped the Spaniard's lips, "Ahaha~ I'm not even sure if he'll take my confession seriously~!"_

_Feliciano smiled knowingly, "Something tells me he_ will _, big brother Antonio!"_

_Antonio pat his pants down, trying to smooth it out, when he frowned in realization. "I forgot my phone at home!"_

_The other shrugged it off, "Ve~ You won't need it! Trust me! You'll be too busy with_ fratellone _to do anything else~! And while you and Lovi are being happy and in love, I'll just pop in to break it to him that Luddy and I are together~! He'll be too happy to care— it's_ failproof _!"_

_The Spaniard could only manage another anxious laugh. "I— I can't believe that I'm finally going to confess to him. It sure took me long enough, huh?"_

_Feli nodded. "Yep! Now, we wait for_ fratello _to come back! I sure hope he gets back soon,"_

_Antonio glanced up at Feliciano, "Ah, did he say where he was going?"_

" _Ve~ He just said that he was going to be out for a while," the Italian replied, glancing out of the dining room window._

_The other slumped into a chair, hands clammy. An excited grin slowly erupted on his sunkissed face. He shook his head in disbelief, smiling all the while. "W-Wow… I'm finally going to tell_ mi tomate _that… that I love him."_

_Over the past few weeks, Antonio and Feliciano have been devising a way for Antonio to confess his feelings for Lovino. It took long enough for Antonio to truly realize that he loved the older Vargas, and not in a brotherly way, but in a romantic one. The plan had been long overdue, with plenty of setbacks because something either came up for Antonio or Lovino. But_ finally _, Antonio and Feliciano had finally seized the_ one _weekend all three of them had free._

_Little did he know what would transpire later that night would forever change his life._

* * *

_Antonio had made all of Lovino's favorite dishes the way he knew the way the Italian liked it. Not only that, but there were candles lit, being the only source of light in the room._

_While the lights were off, there were candles that lit up like a runway that led from the front door to the dining room. Along the path were dozens and dozens of rose petals, gently sprinkled over the wooden floor._

_Most of the roses, however, were surrounding the room. It was a room full of flowers, and at one point, the smell even overwhelmed Antonio. He was thankful that Feliciano helped him with planning everything out so everything would be perfect._

_Soon, he'd finally get to hold Lovino in his arms and whisper to him lovingly, "_ Te amo _,_ mi querido _."_

_I-_ If _Lovi would have him, that is._

* * *

_A few hours passed with no word at all from Lovino and Antonio was getting anxious. Feliciano had already retired upstairs to sleep whilst Antonio was still in the dining room, sitting at a table laden with cold food. He wandered over to the living room, wondering if he should call Lovi. But with what? Antonio left his phone at home and the Vargas brothers had no need for a landline._

_M-Maybe he could ask Feli—_ no _. The younger Italian was already asleep, and to rouse him from his slumber after he had helped Antonio with planning seemed rude and insensitive. If there_ one _thing he and the Vargas brothers all shared, it was the sacred holiness that was delicious, beautiful sleep—_ siestas _, especially._

_The Spaniard fell back on the couch, staring at the front door from down the hall. The candles were nearly used up._

_Where was Lovino?_

* * *

_Later,_ much, much _later, Antonio woke up on the plush leather couch, his clothes wrinkled. He stumbled out of the living room and to the dining room to look out of the window. The red Fiat was nowhere to be seen._

_Worry started to sink in the Spaniard's nerves. He gulped as he took another glance at the wallclock. It was nearly four AM._ W-What if Lovino… spent the night at somebody else's house?

_The brunette shook the thoughts out of his head, biting his bottom lip in worry._ No. Lovinito wouldn't do that. He's not that k-kind of person.

But still, I could be wrong, _Antonio glumly thought. Though Lovino even told Feliciano that he'd be out_ only _for a 'while', a 'while' wasn't_ that _long._

_Antonio shuffled over to the dining table and began to keep the cold entrées. Albeit the undeniable feeling of disappointment he felt, there was always next time, right?_

_He smiled to himself. He'd confess to Lovi the next chance he got~!_

* * *

_Antonio unlocked the door to his apartment and opened it with a slow creak. As soon as he entered, closed and locked the door behind him, the first thing he did was bellyflop onto the bed, the tomato-patterned duvet calling out his name._

_He was going to sleep, but then he saw his phone on the bedside table, where he'd left it last night. Antonio decided to check his phone for a second before going back to sleep. He reached over for it and opened up the screen._

_His emerald eyes squinted at the bright screen in the dark, waiting for his eyes to adjust before he began to read the messages that lined up on his screen._

_There were several texts from his best friends, Francis and Gilbert, offering their encouragement to the Spaniard and cheering him on for finally getting to confess to Lovino. The Spaniard chuckled at their texts, a smile tugging at his lips. Th-Then…_

_Antonio's smile brightened tenfold, all traces of tiredness out the window._

_His_ tomate _left him a voicemail message~!_

_He unlocked the phone in haste, excited to hear what Lovino had to say to him, even if it was Lovino complaining or ranting at him. Anything, just to hear his voice, the timbre of his Italian accent always,_ always _sending chills down Toni's spine— in a_ good _way, of course._

_He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the length of the call. It was just over six minutes long. He wondered what Lovi had to say even more._

_And within seconds, he'd accessed his voicemail and played the call. He placed the phone on speaker and heard his_ tomate _speak._

"H-Hey, bastard— Antonio… I guess t-that this is goodbye."

_Antonio's heart suddenly sunk to the pit of his stomach._

* * *

 

_The Spaniard sat up, body rigid and frozen as Lovi cleared his throat._ "T-This is Lovino b-by the way… b-but of _course_ you a-already know that, bastard…"

_Of course he did. He memorized the details of the sound of Lovino's voice, his perpetually flushed face like the back of his hand._

_He wished to memorize and commit all the details of the Italian's body and soul to his memory, forever imprinted in the back of his mind. He wanted to understand Lovino; to get to know him inside and out. He wanted to know what Lovino thought about late at night, why he guarded his heart so. He wanted to know what secretly made the older Vargas brother happy, down to the deep, dark and arcane secrets he kept within the very depths of his soul._

_Ever since the first time Antonio saw him, and the very moment malachite met_ breathtaking _hazel, he saw the walls inside Lovino's eyes. The Italian kept these high,_ impenetrable _walls around him… Antonio wanted to break them down so badly._

_He was entranced by the mix of frosty green and molten amber. The Italian constantly kept Toni guessing, trying to figure him out. Even though Lovi seemed so_ cold _and_ callous _, Antonio understood that_ that _wasn't who Lovino truly was inside._

_It was a defense mechanism._

_But from what?_

_From who?_

_Those walls Lovino constantly kept around him…_

_Were they to there to protect himself from others, or to protect others from him?_

_The Spaniard wanted to break down the walls Lovino put up around himself, one by one, brick by brick, until every last bit of the walls crumbled into dust and rubble._

_Toni wanted to sink his teeth into him, to melt so perfectly into his lithe, sun-kissed body as they became one. To mend the broken inside of him, and to show Lovino how_ much _he meant_ _to the Spaniard. He wanted to know every nook and cranny on his form. To memorize Lovino's skin on his fingertips like the back of his hand._

_Lovino was an enigma Antonio would_ gladly _spend the rest of his life trying to figure out._

* * *

_The Italian stayed quiet for a few seconds, enough for Antonio to break out of his trance just as the former began to speak._ "O-Okay! So. When I first m-met you, I thought that you were the _biggest ignorant jackass on the face of the earth_ , and somehow, you kinda still are."

_Toni chuckled at the insult. Lovi was so cute~!_

"Uh… Y-You were so fucking _annoying_ then. A-And even _now_ , you still manage to annoy the fuck out of me. So… yeah. When I first met you, you wouldn't leave me alone at _all_ , dammit!"

_Antonio could've sworn he heard a splash of water. Was Lovino taking a bath or something when he sent this?_

"O-Oh, God…" _Lovino's voice was trembling as he uttered the words. It screamed of_ 'fear' _at Antonio, yet he didn't understand why. Why was his tomate so shaken up?_

_He began to worry. H-He wasn't sure of what to think of the call anymore._

* * *

"I thought that… that after a while, y-you'd finally g-give up on me like so many others did, just like the rest of them... but you didn't. A-And that meant a lot to me. A _lot_. Wh-Where people would shun me away because I was a rude and bitter little shit, you a-accepted me."

_Antonio had this certain feeling of fear knotted deep within the pit of his stomach. L-Like there was some sort of presage about it, yet he couldn't exactly put his finger on it._

**_What's going on?_ **

_Suddenly, there was a really audible splash of water in the background._

_A gasp escaped Lovino's lips as he hissed out a curse._ "Shit. A-Anyways, you didn't mind how I always called you a bastard or how I would always push you away… B-Because you knew I never meant it, right?"

Of course I do, Lovino. I've always known you never meant to hurt me with your words, _Antonio thought in response as alarms started to ring in his head. There was something off about this call. I-It... just didn't seem right._ Why is he telling me these things?

_It all seemed so interconnected, yet Antonio was still struggling to connect the dots. It frustrated him._

"Fuck!" _Lovino screeched, fear dripping off his tone._ "A-Antonio, you better get this fucking message, because i-if you don't I am going to be so pissed at you, you got that?! So, so very pissed, because if you don't, I-I'll kick your ass back all the way to fucking Barcelona! Or Madrid! Whatever! _Dio mio_ , at the hour of my death and you still have me rambling. You stupid tomato bastard!"

* * *

**'At the hour of my death'.**

_Within seconds, Antonio had thrown his legs over the edge of the bed, running his fingers through his unruly brown locks._

No, _no_ , this _can't_ be.

_...He wouldn't._

_Lovino would_ never _do such a thing... right?_

_Antonio got up started to pace the room, a flurry of unwanted images, unfavorable possibilities of what could've happened to Lovino tauntingly dancing through his mind._

_Slowly, he started to connect the dots._

"People would shun me out, but you were oh-so very nice to me, Antonio. A-And when we graduated from college together, it w-was then I realized that I had fucking feelings for you! And it scared me to _death_! You made me sure yet _un_ sure about everything I ever knew! You were there for me, throughout all the bullshit I ever went through! N-Not once did you ever leave me. E-Even when Fe-Feliciano came along… Y-You still never left me…" _Lovino was still speaking, voice trembling and Antonio knew right then and there that the Italian had tears streaming down his face. He could hear Lovino's short gasps for air as he struggled to keep it together._

"W-When Feliciano came along… He was like a fucking breath of fresh air, huh? Heh… A-As time passed, you and _mio fratello_ began to become closer… obviously. We're like polar fucking opposites, _mio fratellino_ and I. And I don't blame Feliciano f-for… _fuck_. I don't know. For taking you away— _dammit_! …I would say that Feliciano broke us apart, but you were never mine to begin with."

**_This call... it was a confession._ **

_The Spaniard paled at the thought of the older Vargas brother actually thinking and believing that the former was in love with Feliciano._

_Lovino's got it wrong._

_Lovino's got it_ all wrong _._

_The brunette's head began spinning. He felt lightheaded, yet his chest was so_ heavy _, oh-so heavy with grief._

**_But this wasn't just a confession..._ **

_A helpless cry escaped the Spaniard's lips. A protest to something that could never be undone for it was much too late._

"It's not— it's not you or _fratello's_ fault. It was solely my own. I- _I'm_ second best. I know; I always have been… A-And I'm sorry for piling all of this shit on you. Truly, I am. W-Whatever happens after a-all this bullshit, don't— don't blame yourself for this, o-okay, bastard?"

**_It was a final goodbye._ **

* * *

_Antonio made a beeline for the bathroom, barely making it in time and retching the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He was sobbing, yet tears had yet to run down his face. His body had yet to physically react to the anguish the Spaniard was feeling._

_His throat burned as he pushed himself off of the toilet and leant against the wall adjacent to it, sobbing as Lovino's voice continued to speak, resounding throughout the apartment._

"A-And I know you l-love Feliciano, so you better— you better fucking take good c-care of him, okay? Dammit…"

_A guttural cry escaped Antonio's lips. "No, oh God, Lovino..."_

"I just wished that you could've felt the same way for me. Y-You fucking tomato bastard. But I— I _know_ that won't happen, and it never will."

_"Why are you doing this?!" The brunette shouted back at the phone, his body trembling in grief._

"I've tried over and over again to be _just_ like him. Just like Feliciano, but I just— I just couldn't. Okay? I thought that b-being more like Feli would make you— I don't even fucking know— return my feelings? B-But that just wasn't me anymore, and I c-couldn't live life trying to be someone else. I— This is who I am and no amount of denying it could ever change that. _…Ti amo, bastardo. Ti amo. Mi dispiace. Mi dispiace tanto. Perdonami, mio amore; Antonio._ "

_The Spaniard shot up and stumbled over to the cellphone on the bed, "Don't do this to me, Lovino,_ te amo _! Please, don't leave me!"_

**_Yet the Italian did not respond._ **

"O-Oh, _Dio_."

_"Dammit, Lovino! Why?!"_

**_He did not respond._ **

"Tell Feliciano t-that I love him too, dammit!"

_"Lovi,_ te amo _, don't do this! Oh God!"_

**_Not to Antonio._ **

"J-Just know that I… I love you. I think I always have. And don't try to find me.

Because you won't."

**_Not to anyone._ **

"…Goodbye, Antonio."

**_Not anymore._ **

* * *

_It was agonizing._

_It was like watching or hearing someone slowly dying before you, but you couldn't do a thing to save them._

_...N-Not a single damn thing._

_And here Lovino was, dying in front of Antonio over and over again. It was like a vicious cycle that slowly ate away at Antonio's conscience and soul._

_Antonio leant against the edge of the bed, his head pounding and his heart finally numb to all the pain that consumed him._

_He played the voicemail, over and over and over again._

_Lovino was dying over and over and over again._

_Crying._

_Confessing._

_Pouring his heart out before he took his life away._

_All these things Antonio wanted to say to Lovino... unspoken._

_Forever unvoiced._

_He wanted to cry out to Lovino, to cry out to the Heavens._

_So he did._

_...L-Lovino was probably too far up up there to hear him._

_Then Antonio's phone began to ring._

_He stared at it blankly for one second, two seconds, before he had this little hope inside of him that i-it was his_ querido _, Lovino calling. Calling to say that y-yesterday was just a mean joke that got carried away too far o-or something... right?_

_...It's possible._

_He reached up for the phone atop the middle of his bed and stared at it with bleary eyes, waiting for his vision to refocus through the dried tears that he'd shed._

**Gilbert.**

_Antonio gulped, feeling his head begin to throb again, before he answered the call._

_"H... Hola, Gilbert."_

"Kesesese~ How'd the confession go last night? Franny and I didn't want to disturb you just in case you two were having some sexy-time,"

**Confession.**

_Before he could stop himself, Antonio choked out a sob and his eyes became misty with a fresh onslaught of tears._

"Eh? Toni, what's wrong? Did he reject you?"

_Antonio could only sob incoherently in response._

"You stay right there, _mein Freund_ , Francis and I are coming over, _Verdammt_!"

_Then the self-proclaimed Prussian hung up._

* * *

_Weary and swollen emerald eyes absentmindedly glanced around the apartment._

_In a blinding fit of grief and rage, he had taken out all of his frustrations on his home._

_Paintings were torn down, curtains were ripped from their fixtures, letting the bright sunlight in the apartment._

_Bottles._

_There were bottles everywhere._

_Some broken, some intact, and others completely shattered._

_The place reeked of alcohol, yet drowning himself in it couldn't curb the sound of Lovino's voice_ alwaysalwaysalways _playing in his head._

_All he saw was red._

_All he heard was Lovino._

'…Ti amo, bastardo. Ti amo. Mi dispiace. Mi dispiace tanto. Perdonami, mio amore; Antonio.'

_With great effort, Antonio swallowed the lump forming in the back of his throat, tears beginning to run down his face for the nth time that day._ Dios mío.

_Even when the voicemail wasn't playing, he could still hear him._

_Hear him dying._

_Hear him falling apart._

_Hearing him crumble, yet Antonio couldn't do a thing to save him._

_The Spaniard painfully squeezed his eyes shut, his face contorting into one of great pain._

_It hurt so much, he could literally feel his heart clenching in pain._

Why, Lovino? Why?

_H-He could just imagine it now. He could see it in his head._

_Lovino would abruptly barge in the apartment using the key Antonio gave him without saying so beforehand. Then, he would see Antonio sitting by the bed, drenched in sweat, alcohol and tears. The Italian would begin to scold him,_ 'What the fuck is wrong with you, bastard? Get your shit together, dammit!'

'But Lovi,' _he himself would whine, stretching his arms out to the slightly disgusted Vargas._ 'I missed you~! I had a _muy terrible_ dream about you!'

_His tomate would sit at the foot of the bed, kicking the emptied bottle of tequila away,_ 'Oh yeah? What now, bastard? Did you have a nightmare about me eating all of your stupid tomatoes again?'

_The Spaniard would then tersely shake his head._ 'No, it was much more worse than that!'

_Lovino would expectantly raise an eyebrow at him at this point._

'Lovi~ I dreamt that you died a-and all you left me was a voicemail saying goodbye!'

_Lovinito's eyes would soften momentarily before he resumes glaring at the Spaniard._ 'Chigi! W-What the hell, asshole?! Y-You and your stupid nightmares, dammit!'

_T-Then Lovino would raise a hand to lightly smack his head out of irritation. Emerald eyes would lock with hazel as Antonio tightly grabs Lovino's wrist, pulling him in as his expression grew serious._ '...Te amo, Lovino.' _He would whisper, watching his tomate's face flush fifty shades of red. He would pull Lovino in and feverishly press his lips against his—_

_"Oi, Toni!"_

_Emerald eyes snap open as he was brought out of his reverie._

Nothing.

_There was_ nothing _, no trace of Lovino ever being there with him._

_His heart broke all over again._

_He buried his face in his hand and let the tears run down his ashen cheeks as Gilbert and Francis entered his apartment._

_A low whistle escaped Gilbert's lips as the two gawked at the apocalyptic state of the room._

_Francis was the first one at Antonio's side, kneeling beside him. "_ Mon Dieu _, what happened,_ mon ami _? Did he reject you?"_

_The Spaniard only began to weep even harder, Francis' words triggering unwanted memories of the voicemail. He managed a small shake of his head._

_"What did he do, Toni?" It was Gilbert speaking this time._

_Antonio refused to reiterate how six minutes' worth of words ruined his life. He automatically reached for his phone laying atop his bed and played the voicemail, his badly muffled crying growing louder as he shoved the phone into Francis' chest._

_Gilbert and Francis shared a curious glance at each other as Lovino's voice began to pour out of the phone's speakers._

"H-Hey, bastard— A-Antonio… I guess t-that this is goodbye."

_And in that instant, they put two and two together. The Prussian quietly stared down at his hands as the Frenchman nearly dropped his phone._

_"_ Mon Dieu. _"_

* * *

_"Feli— Take me to Feli's," Antonio managed to choke out, breaking the several minutes' worth of silence between the three. "I need to tell him that L-Lovino won't be coming home anymore—"_

_More sobbing._

_Gilbert quickly shook his head. "What if this is just some stupid prank Lovino's playing on us? On_ all _of us?"_

_Antonio pulled his hands away from his face and glared at the Prussian amidst tears blurring his vision. "Lovi wouldn't do such a thing! He would never do something so c-_ cruel _to Feliciano for_ fun _."_

_After several seconds of silence, Gilbert sighed and stood up. "Fran, help me clean him up before we go to the police to report him missing and head to Feli's."_

_The Frenchman nodded, helping Antonio up to his unsteady feet, alcohol still present in his system._

* * *

_After Francis and Gilbert had managed to get Antonio somewhat cleaned up and changed into a clean set of clothes, they helped him downstairs to Francis' car, in which all three got in as Francis slid his car key into the ignition._

_"How do we tell him?" Gilbert asked from the backseat of Francis' boisterously blue Chevrolet as the Frenchman pulled out of one of the parking slots in front of Antonio's apartment complex._

_Toni, who was riding shotgun, leant against the window with his eyes painfully squeezed shut, his jaw set, and his face grim, said nothing._

_In his stead, it was Francis who replied, "I do not know yet…_ Mon Dieu _. I can't believe it."_

_Gilbert gave a terse nod in agreement. "_ Ja _, I know what you mean. I never thought that Lovino would be the type to…" He trailed off, leaving the other two to fill in the blanks._

_"Such terrible timing, at that," Francis muttered, charging Antonio's phone using the car-friendly charger by connecting it to the car's jack._

_"Gott. I can't even imagine what I'd feel if… if West died. I mean, like Lovino did. I know he would never do such a thing, but we thought the same thing for Lovino, and look at what happened—"_

_The Spaniard released a quivering breath thick with emotion in response to their exchange. Francis took a moment to worriedly glance at Toni before running his hands though Antonio's still-damp hair, cerulean blue eyes flickering back onto the road._

_"We'll get through this together,_ mon ami _. I promise you."_

_Still, Antonio uttered not a word._

* * *

_The ride to the Vargas'—_ Feliciano's _place was too quick; much too quick for the Bad Touch Trio's liking. None of them knew what to say, or how to break it to the younger Italian regarding the devastating voicemail Toni had received._

_Francis and Gilbert managed to get Antonio out of the car, who numbly ambled along the path to the two-story Italian villa._

_As if he were snapped out of a trance, he suddenly glanced up and finally took notice of his surroundings. He found himself in front of— of Feliciano and Romano's home. Slowly, realization flooded his mind and overwhelmed his senses._

_He whipped himself around to scan the driveway, or the streets, or any of the other neighbors' driveways, for any trace of the red Fiat he was so accustomed to seeing._

_There were none._

_No traces at all._

_"His car—_ Dios mio _, it's still not here—" he exclaimed, voice filled with ever-growing panic as he ran his hands through his messy chocolate brown hair. A distinct feeling of hopelessness and despair seized his chest, constricting it tighter and tighter with each passing second Lovino was nowhere to be seen or to be heard from._

_Gilbert looked at him sympathetically, carmine eyes softening. He firmly wrapped his hand around the Spaniard's forearm, tugging him towards the general direction of the front door. "Toni, c'mon; we need to talk to Feli."_

_Antonio shrugged out of the Prussian's grasp, sweat beginning to form on his temple. "It's_ not _here. God. I-It means that_ mi querido _Lovino—" he sunk to the snowy ground on his knees. A strangled gasp escaped his lips as tears threatened to fall down his cheeks once again._

_"_ Scheiße _, Franny, help me out here!" Gilbert called out as he tried to pull the brunette back to his feet._

_Francis, who had gone ahead to ring the doorbell, had turned around and hurried over to his two best friend calling out, "_ Merde _! Antoine,_ mon Dieu _, get up!"_

_Whilst he reached out to help the Spaniard back up, as if on cue, the door slowly opened to reveal a confused but happy Feliciano, peering at the Trio from the front door with his head cocked to the side by a fraction. The confusion on his face soon melted away into one of happiness. Immediately, he called out to them, "Ve~ Hi big brother Toni, big brother Francis, big brother Gilbert!_ Buon giorno~! _"_

_Gilbert sheepishly grinned at the Italian and scratched the back of his head, "_ Guten Morgen _, Feli! Kesese~ Say, can we come in? Just to talk to you for a bit about something."_

_Feliciano stepped out and beamed at them, "Ah, of course! I'll cook you all some pasta!"_

_The Prussian hesitantly went ahead, stepping inside the house, taking note of the melted candles and the rose petals that led to the dining room._ Oh, Gott _. Without skipping a beat, Feli kept on talking, "Ve~ Sorry about the mess but big brother Toni was planning to confess to_ fratello _, but for some reason,_ fratello _hasn't come home yet—"_

_"Yeah, about that—" Gil glanced behind him to see Francis walking towards the house with Antonio._ Good. _The albino continued speaking, "There's something you need to know."_

Fuck. How the hell do I break it to him?

_He had followed Feli into the kitchen, where the latter was about to pull out a box of pasta out of the cupboard._

_Upon the Frenchman and the Spaniard's entrance, Toni had taken to leaning against the wall by the doorway of the kitchen, emerald eyes dull and tired. Francis stood beside the Prussian, ready to help or intervene if need be._

_Feliciano began to fill a pot up with water before turning to his unexpected guests, "Well, just tell me! Ve~ I'm all ears~!"_

_Gilbert shot Francis a look, practically screaming_ Help me out, Verdammt! _The latter immediately nodded in acknowledgement, taking a step forward as he laced his fingers together._

_"Feliciano," Francis began, his facial expression slightly grim. "There is something you must know."_

_The Italian glanced up at the blond after setting the pot onto the stove and letting the water boil, "Hmm?"_

_The Frenchman cleared his throat and glanced at his feet for a second or two before meeting Feliciano's gaze, chocolate brown eyes twinkling with curiosity._

_"The— The thing is, and you have to remember that we don't want you to do anything rash, but we, uh…_ might _need you to come with us to the police."_

_Immediately, Feliciano threw his hands up in a defensive position, "I swear I didn't steal any pasta! O-Okay, maybe there was that_ one time _, but_ fratello _said that he didn't tell_ any _body! Y-You can ask him! Let me just call_ mio fratello _~!"_

_Within seconds, Feliciano had his phone out of his pocket and pressed to his ear. He always kept his big brother on speed-dial for occasions like these— or when he felt like Lovino needed a bit more hug therapy._

_Cerulean blue eyes widened in alarm, "That's the thing, Feliciano—"_

_Huh._

_That was odd._

_Normally, Lovino would have picked up by now, demanding Feliciano explain why he called._

_"Wait a minute, he's not answering," Feliciano murmured, raising an index finger up._

**'The number you have requested is not in service. Please try again.'**

_So he did and got the same response._

**'The number you have requested is not in service. Please try again.'**

_He gave it another go anyway._

**'The number you have requested is not in service. Please—'**

_After the third time he'd called, Francis was already by his side, gently lowering the hand Feliciano used to hold onto his phone down to his side._

_"Feliciano," Francis spoke up again, expression grave._

_"Wh-Wha—" Feliciano stuttered out, utterly confused._

_"We have reason to believe that Lovino… may have killed himself." The blond spoke slowly, as if talking to a child. With Feliciano, it might as well have been the same thing._

_The latter pouted at him, "Ve? That's not very funny, big brother Francis."_

_"I… I'm serious_ mon petit _Feliciano. There was a voicemail—"_

_Feliciano firmly crossed his arms over his chest, chocolate brown eyes narrowing at the Frenchman in slight annoyance. "_ Mio fratello _, Lovi, leaves voicemails all the time. Stop this now, I don't like it."_

_"Now, now, Feliciano—"_

_"Was he mean to you again or something? Y-You know he doesn't mean anything he says, right?_ Right? _Lovino's a good person, so w-why are you saying bad things like this?"_

_"_ Mon Dieu _, Feli, I'm sorry," Francis started reaching out for the Italian._

_The younger Vargas brother took a step back, shook his head in disbelief, eyes wide as his chest rose up and down rapidly._

_A tense silence engulfed the room before there was a loud resounding_ slap! _that reverberated through the kitchen, save for the sound of the slowly boiling water._

_Feliciano had slapped Francis' hand away, continually shaking his head in denial. "No…_ No. _You're_ lying _! F-_ Fratello _would_ never _do such a thing,"_

_"Feliciano, listen; we need to report him missing. H-He left Antoine a voicemail and—"_

_"You're_ lying _!" Feliciano hissed, lashing out at the Frenchman. Almost immediately, Gilbert was behind Feliciano, holding the Italian back by his arms._

_Tears began to stream down Feli's face as he began to yell at them in Italian. Antonio couldn't do a thing but slowly slide down the wall until he had curled up with his knees against his chest._

_It was becoming real._

_It was becoming all too real._

_As foolish as it seemed, Antonio actually had a glimmer of foolish hope when he realized he was in front of his Lovinito's home. That if the red Fiat was there, then,_ definitely _, Lovino was, too._

_That hope was now crumbling, disappearing along with the likelihood of Lovino still being alive._

_…Oh God._

_Emerald eyes glanced up to see a normally cheerful and composed Feliciano, absolutely livid as he screeched out, "He's not dead!_ Mio fratello _is not dead! You're_ wrong _! You're_ lying _to me!"_

_Francis and Gilbert were trying to knock some sense into the outraged Italian, speaking in their respective native tongues._

_It was complete and utter chaos._

_It wasn't until Francis had grabbed hold of Feliciano's shoulders, gave him a stern shake, and exclaimed, "_ Mon Dieu _, Feliciano! Calm down!" did the Italian actually grow quiet, eyes flickering quickly over to Antonio's before quietly and calmly asking him this._

_"What's going on, Antonio?"_

_Toni's eyes met Franny's, who let go of the Italian before pulling the Spaniard's phone out of his jeans' pocket and unlocking it._

_Slowly, Gilbert let him go._

_Francis began to play the voicemail, apologetically muttering, "I'm sorry, Feli. I'm so, so sorry…"_

_The Prussian uncomfortably glanced down at his feet before shuffling out of the room. "I'll call Ludwig over."_

_And once again, Lovino began to speak the last words they'd ever hear from him again._

* * *

"Mio fratellone è morto! Perché? Perché?! Dio, abbi pieta!" _Feliciano screamed out in the police station, absolutely distraught and devastated._

_His_ f-fratello _is gone._

_Forever._

_N-No more_ fratello _._

_No more movie nights with pasta._

_No more siestas._

_No more sneaking into_ fratello's _bed at night._

_No more_ fratello _fussing over him._

**No more fratello.**

_Ludwig had wrapped his arms around Feliciano's torso, trying to calm him down. Truth be told, the German was completely shocked when he found out what had happened._

_He was in the midst of cooking some wurst when his_ bruder _had called him and demanded he come to Feliciano's house as soon as he could. He asked why, but Gilbert had hung up soon thereafter._

_When he had gotten to the Vargas residence, he could hear Feliciano's sobbing from outside._

_E-Everything was such a blur, and he somehow found himself in the local police station with his brother, his brother's friends, and a sobbing Italian in his arms._

_While he was sitting on one of the waiting chairs in the station with Feliciano beside him, Francis, Antonio and Gilbert had gone off to report Lovino's disappearance._

_They believed him to be dead from what they've drawn from listening to the voicemail, but without a body to attain to that fact… there was still the possibility Lovino had been kidnapped or had gotten horribly, horribly lost somewhere._

_None of the two were ideal, but still— it was better than dead._

_Though Ludwig and the older Vargas brother didn't exactly get along— at all— the blond didn't want him_ deceased _._

"Mi manca mio fratello! Non posso vivere senza di lui!" _Feliciano cried out, burying his face into Ludwig's chest. Slowly, his sobs died down and quieted into shaky, emotional breaths._

"Alles wird gut, meine Lieben." _The blond coaxed, running his hands through the Italian's silky brown hair. "I'm sure we will get to the bottom of this."_

_"I want_ m-mio fratello _back, Luddy," Feli gasped out, tears still running down his face. "I can't do anything w-without him._ Mio fratello _,"_

_The German pulled him closer, pressing his lips against the top of Feliciano's head. "I know, Feli. I know. I do too. But all we can do right now is hope for the best."_

_He glanced down at the brunette, azure eyes softening, as he whispered, only for Feliciano to hear, "_ Ich liebe dich _, Feliciano."_

_Almost immediately, the Italian replied, "_ Ti amo troppo _, Ludwig._ T-Ti amo _,"_

_They grew quiet after that._

* * *

_The past few days have been absolute_ hell _without Lovino._

_Without as much as a trace, there wasn't much to go on for the search of Lovino Romano Vargas' whereabouts. There was a tip-off from a bar, however. The bartender remembered seeing Lovino getting drunk before stumbling out of the bar. He never saw him after that._

_And as much as it hurt, Feliciano was the first one to accept the likelihood that Lovino wasn't coming back anytime soon anymore._

_Yet Antonio… it was as if he was still stuck in some sort of emotional limbo._

_He didn't want to let the idea of Lovino still being alive go— he_ refused _to._

_It just didn't… he just didn't want to accept his death so easily._

_To him, it was akin giving up on Lovino completely._

_As if denying the Italian ever existed._

_Honestly, there was no physical body to grant him that closure, but it always deluded the Spaniard into thinking that Lovino would, indeed, return to them— to_ him _someday._

_This was how the Spaniard found himself at Feliciano's house, where they were finalizing the funeral arrangements for the older Vargas brother, thanks to the help of Gilbert's younger brother, Ludwig._

_There was a coffin, yes, but no body to put in it…_

_"M-Maybe we should just bury_ fratello's _weight in tomatoes," Feliciano muttered, failing drastically to lighten everyone's mood up as his voice cracked at the very end._

_His face scrunched up in pain as tears ran down his face, crying into Ludwig's chest._

_They were relapsing over and over and over again._

_When Gilbert came in from the kitchen, beer in hand and tomato in the other, he offered the latter to Feliciano._

_The Italian pried himself away from Ludwig's arms and he carefully took the tomato, hands shaking, staring at it with big brown eyes for several seconds before breaking into tears again, tightening his grip on the tomato and throwing it at the wall before him, hitting the whitewash concrete with a splat as it fell down to the floor._

_Feliciano had eaten neither pasta nor tomatoes since._

_It reminded him too much of his_ fratello _, how they'd always have pasta every night, and it reminded him of his future dinners by his own lonesome._

_And he didn't want to remember or forget just yet._

* * *

_Later that night, Gilbert drove Antonio home while Ludwig opted to spend the night at Feliciano's for moral support._

_The Spaniard was numb and he knew it. He'd lost count of how many times he'd wept; he cried until he just couldn't cry anymore._

_But that didn't mean that the hurt went away, no— it was a dull ache that continually stabbed him in the chest as he kept on listening to the voicemail over and over again, always on replay with earphones on._

_He couldn't even begin to comprehend how he could be in so much pain, yet feel absolutely nothing at all._

_Gilbert finally confronted him about it. "Why do you keep on doing this to yourself, Toni?" His voice was stern, yet at the same time cautious. Like he didn't want to set Antonio off._

_A pregnant silence fell between them before Antonio honestly answered, "…I don't know."_

_The corner of Gilbert's lip curled down into a frown. "Listening to that voicemail over and over won't bring him back!"_

_He hated having to resort to being so callous, but this— listening to it over and over again— wasn't helping Antonio at all. If anything, it was self-destructive; emotionally masochistic._

_He knew that nothing would ever be the same, but_ Gott _, he wanted Antonio on the road to recovery! Not just for Lovino, for him, for Feliciano, or for_ any _of his friends, but for_ his _— Antonio's— sake. Gilbert_ refused _to sit and watch as his best friend fell apart, no._

_That's not what best friends_ do _._

_Antonio immediately fired back a response, turning to face the albino, emerald eyes gleaming at his crimson eyes darkly, "You think I don't know that? Of course I do—"_

_"Then why do you keep on doing it?! It does nothing but bring you pain!_ Gott _, I_ hate seeing you like this _!"_

_"E-Exactly!" the Spaniard exclaimed in response. "…I keep thinking that… if I listen to it over and over, I'll understand what he felt before he— he…_ Dios, _"_

_Gilbert's eyes softened, "Look, Toni. I'm upset about this too. We_ all _are. But would Lovino really want you to be so_ miserable _like this?"_

_A bitter chuckle escaped the brunette's lips. "I deserve it,_ mi amigo _."_

_The Prussian glanced at him for a second, perplexed. "Deserve what? The misery?"_

_Antonio licked his bottom-lip, which had become dry and chapped over the past few days. "Mhmm," he hummed. "A-After all, I'm the reason he killed himself—"_

_Gilbert abruptly slammed on the brakes with his foot, prompting several drivers behind him to honk their horns at him in answer, all the while cursing at him and giving him middle-fingered salutes._

_The albino pulled the silver Mercedes-Benz over to the side of the road, feeling angry. He turned to Antonio, eyes narrowed. "Don't you_ dare _fucking say that, Toni. You don't know that for sure."_

_A scoff escaped the other's lips as he, too, turned to face his friend. "Gilbert, he died thinking that he wouldn't amount to_ anything _compared to his own brother._ He _thought_ I _loved Feli."_

_Gilbert slammed his hand against the steering wheel, leaning in, "But_ you're _not the one at fault,_ Verdammt _!"_

_Antonio glared at Gilbert, defiance radiating off his person. "Yes, I am! H-He probably died cold a-and alone, thinking_ nobody _loved him. But_ I _do. A-And I never got to tell him that._ D-Dios _, if I only found it in myself to tell him sooner… he would still be here. We would be together. Gilbert, how would_ you _feel if Mathew killed himself because he thought you were in love with Alfred?"_

_Gilbert flinched at the Spaniard's words, letting the words sink in. Slowly, he responded, "I… I guess I can see where you're coming from. I can't—_ I can't _stand the thought of birdie not being by my side anymore._ Mein Gott _, that was dickish of me. I… I'm sorry."_

_The brunette slowly nodded. "I-I know. I forgive you,_ mi amigo _." A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he slumped against the leather car seat, giving a small shake of his head. He smiled sadly, whispering, "I miss him. I miss him_ so much _. A-And I love him."_

_Carmine eyes met emerald green ones._

_"I will always love him and I just— I just wish that I had a chance to tell him that._ Carpe diem _, right? Seize the day. But… But I didn't. He'll never get to hear the words that I've been wanting to say to him for, what, eight years now?"_

_Before he could even stop himself, a lone tear had rolled down his cheek._

_It was followed by another._

_And another._

_And another._

_And another._

'Ti amo, bastardo. Ti amo. Mi dispiace. Mi dispiace tanto. Perdonami, mio amore; Antonio.'

Te amo, _Lovino_.

Te amo, te amo, te amo.

I'm sorry.

_The funeral was held that Sunday._

* * *

"Lovino! Lovino!" Antonio's screaming had brought Lovino out of the memories of his own death. But the screaming wasn't directed at _him_ , it was directed at the grave that sealed his fate.

The Italian remembered everything.

T-The lake he walked past; it was the same lake he died in.

His Fiat and his physical body were still _down there_.

"L-Lovi, why did you have t-to leave me?!" The Spaniard cried out, tears running down his face as he fell back into a sitting position, legs splayed before him.

"I'm sorry! _Perdonami_! I didn't mean to fucking do it!" Lovino yelled back at him, but Antonio couldn't hear him, no. "Dammit, I'm _right here_!"

The former kicked the gravestone, only for his foot to pass through. "Fuck it all!"

" _Dios, ten piedad! N-No puedo vivir sin mi tomate… Mi corazon; mi_ Lovino…"

Lovino stilled, turning to the other brunette. "W-What?"

Antonio still had tears freely running down his tanned cheeks, giving the grave a broken smile. The Italian crouched down in front of him, hazel eyes wide and lips parted in surprise. _D-Did he just call me his_ corazon _..?_

" _Te quiero,_ Lovino… I-I… I love you too, _mi amor_." He chuckled, wiping the tears away from his face, but they never seemed to cease. "I really am an idiot, Lovi… I-If only I showed you how m-much you _meant to me_ better… _Dios_ , y-you would still be here. It's all my fault…"

"No, nothing is _your_ fault, you idiot!" Lovino hissed, unaware of the tears streaming down his face. " _I_ was the one who drove drunk. _Me_. It was _all me_. _My_ fault. Don't blame this on yourself— I _told_ you not to blame yourself, you fucking tomato bastard!"

"I love you so much, Lovino. I-I never got to tell you—" Antonio's face contorted into one of agonizing pain. "I never got to tell you in person. I love you so, so very much, _mi tomate_. _L-Lo siento. Estoy tan, tan apenado. Perdóname. Te amo. Te amo, mi querido. Mi tomate,_ Lovino."

Lovino's hazel eyes softened, blinking the tears away from his eyes. Suddenly, there was a bright light from behind Antonio. His eyes widened in shock as he glanced past the Spaniard.

T-There was a girl there, just standing by the trees, covered in a pristine white robe from head to toe. Her fair hair was hidden from within the comforts the hood of her robe, as were her feet and hands. Her porcelain face was hauntingly beautiful and ethereal, yet so cold and empty.

_'Come, Lovino,'_ she seemed to say to him. Her rosy pink lips weren't moving, yet h-he knew he could hear her voice in his head.

What the actual _fuck_.

He scowled at her, flipping her the bird. "Fuck off! I'm not leaving Antonio."

Her pale blue eyes hardened. A scythe suddenly appeared in her hand in a blinding flash of light.

He warily took a step back. "Chigi! W-What the hell do you want from me anyway, dammit?!"

_'It is time to go now.'_ She replied in a sing-song manner that honestly creeped Lovino the fuck out.

"Tch, what if I don't want to?" He muttered, casting a worried glance at Antonio. "I can't just leave him like this, dammit..."

She bowed her head down a fraction, icy blue eyes never leaving his. Even as dead as he was, he felt a shiver of fear slither down his spine.

"F-Fine!" he growled out, taking several steps forward. He shot another glance at Antonio. "J-Just... just give me a fucking minute, dammit..."

The girl nodded before stepping back.

A sigh escaped Lovino's lips as he turned to face the Spaniard. Slowly, he made his way to him and sat in front of Antonio. The latter was just staring blankly at the gravestone, emerald eyes glistening with the tears he'd shed.

"Look, bastard," Lovino started, voice thick with emotion. "I guess... I guess I have to go now. A-And I'll see you someday, alright? But that sure as hell better not be soon, or else I'm kicking your ass back down to earth, dammit!"

Tears rolled down his cheeks. "I-If only... God, I wish I didn't get drunk at _all_ that night. Fuck."

And for a second, Antonio glanced up. The breath in Lovino's throat hitched as their eyes seemingly met for the first time since he'd woken up in the forest. " _Ti amo_ , bastard." He whispered before burying his face into his arms. Sobs wracked his body as he tried to get it together.

He slowly glanced up at Antonio before nervously leaning in and pressing his lips against the Spaniard's own.

He could feel the warmth radiating from Toni's lips, making him feel alive than he'd been in a _long time—_ even before he'd died.

The girl had made her way over to them, somehow, and she was now right behind him.

_'We must leave now.'_

Lovino stood up, dusting the imaginary snow and dust off his jeans before giving Antonio a small, sad smile.

" _Ciao_ , Antonio."

And like the cigarette smoke, he, too, dissipated into nothingness.

* * *

Antonio sat there on the ground, ignoring how his jeans were getting wet with the melting snow.

Even after the funeral had come to pass...

It didn't give him closure.

I-It just _didn't_.

It didn't feel _right_ saying goodbye to Lovi like that when there was no Lovi to say goodbye to.

Throughout the week, it was like he was in a trance he couldn't break out of.

Sometimes, it was like the Italian was still there.

Like he was out of town for a few days, and then he would come back.

S-Sometimes, he could still hear Lovino cursing at him throughout the day when he'd do certain things, like drink straight out of the juice carton.

Lovino was kinda germophobic that way, but it made the possibility of him still being alive all the more real.

Like he was still _there_.

But deep, _deep_ inside, Antonio just knew he never was and never will be.

* * *

Antonio had gotten a leave from work for a week or two. He spent this one day just to be with Lovino. Actually, Francis and Gilbert were parked by one of the roads, waiting for him. They'd accompanied him for the first two hours or so before they decided to get something for all of them to eat, but Antonio wasn't hungry.

A-And even as unlikely and delusional as it was, he could've _sworn_ that he saw Lovino, sitting right in front of him.

For the final time, breathtaking hazel met emerald green.

" _Ti amo_ , bastard." Lovino whispered, only loud enough for Antonio to hear. T-Then, his _tomate_ broke down crying into his arms.

The Spaniard was still in shock; he didn't know what to do.

His heart rapidly started to beat against his chest.

He could even hear the pulsating rhythm in his ears.

L-Lovino.

The love of his life.

Before he knew it, the Italian had glanced up and pressed his lips against his.

He swore he could even _feel_ Lovi's soft lips against his.

Oh, how he'd _wished_ to savor that kiss until the end of time. To wrap his arms around the Italian's body and just keep him there, with him.

But alas, everything has got to end sometime.

As Lovino pulled away and stood up, he had begun fading into thin air.

" _Ciao_ , Antonio." he'd said, a small smile gracing his pink lips as a blush dusted his cheeks.

And for the longest time, Toni just sat there, trying to comprehend it all.

His emerald green eyes flickered up to the sky as a genuine smile broke out on his face for the first time in days. Finally, he felt a sense of closure, getting to see Lovino one last time.

Even if it were just an illusion, he truly felt like Lovino was there with him.

He was Lovino's, and Lovino was his.

**Forever.**

" _Yo también te amo_ , Lovino."

_I'll see you again someday, somewhere._

* * *

 

**_"That little kiss you stole,_ **

**_It held my heart and soul._ **

**_And like a ghost in the silence, I disappear._ **

**_Don't try to fight the storm,_ **

**_You'll tumble overboard._ **

**_Tides will bring me back to you."_ **

**_—_ Deathbeds by Bring Me The Horizon**

* * *

 

**_FIN._ **

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fratellone - big brother or elder brother  
>  fratello - brother  
>  mi tomate - my tomato  
>  te amo, mi querido - I love you, my dear   
> hola - hello   
> mein Freund - my friend   
> Verdammt - dammit   
> Dios mio - my God   
> muy terrible - very terrible   
> mon Dieu - my God  
>  mon ami - my friend   
> Ja - yes  
>  Scheiße - shit   
> Merde - shit   
> mon petit - my little   
> Mio fratellone è morto - my big brother is dead   
> perché - why   
> Dio, abbi pieta - God, have mercy  
>  bruder - brother  
>  mi manca mio fratello - I miss my brother  
>  non posso vivere senza di lui - I can't live without him  
>  alles wird gut, meine Lieben - everything will be alright, my love  
>  Ich liebe dich - I love you   
> Ti amo troppo - I love you, too   
> Gott - God   
> mi amigo - my friend  
>  Dios, ten piedad - God, have mercy  
>  no puedo vivir sin mi tomate - I cannot live without my tomato  
>  mi corazon - my heart  
>  te quiero - I love you   
> lo siento - I'm sorry   
> estoy tan, tan apenado - I am so, so sorry  
>  perdóname - forgive me  
>  ciao - hello & goodbye  
>  yo también te amo - I love you, too

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I've got posted on my FF.n account, so I've decided to also upload it here! :D
> 
> Translations:  
> bianco - white   
> fratello - brother  
>  bastardo - bastard


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